


Howl

by arysa13



Series: 2019 Kink Meme Fills [4]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, F/M, Friends to Lovers, Humor, I mean it's not really historical but it's set in the past so, Smut, WTFfic, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolves, beastiality
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:06:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arysa13/pseuds/arysa13
Summary: Clarke Griffin is a werewolf hunter, only she doesn't know her best friend Bellamy is a werewolf. He's determined to convince her werewolves aren't all that bad.AKA Clarke wants to fuck a werewolf.





	Howl

**Author's Note:**

> let's not take this fic too seriously okay?

Clarke nocks an arrow as she spies Bellamy walking through the trees towards her. He’s off in his own little world, carrying a couple of books in his arm. She pulls the bowstring tight, and when he steps right where she wants him, she lets loose. The arrow flies past him, an inch from his ear, and sticks into the tree behind him. Bellamy whips his head around to look at the arrow, then back to the front, spotting Clarke standing in the clearing in front of him.

“Jesus Christ, Clarke.” He shakes his head. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“If I was trying to kill you, you’d be dead,” Clarke smirks. She laughs at his disgruntled expression. He continues towards her, joining her in the clearing. “Do you think I’m ready?”

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Bellamy says. “You already know how I feel about you going off and killing innocent creatures for sport.”

Clarke scowls, her mood quickly disintegrating. “They aren’t _innocent_ , Bellamy. A werewolf _killed_ my father, remember?”

“I remember,” he mutters. “Sorry. I just—you’re acting like it’s going to be fun. Killing things. People.”

“People that turn into wolves and kill other people. Besides, it’s in my blood. All my family are werewolf hunters, and so am I. Nothing you say will change my mind. Besides, you hunt and kill rabbits and deer and whatever else you can find,” Clarke points out.

“Yeah, for food, Clarke. It’s different.”

“Maybe I’ll eat the werewolf. Turn its fur into a nice warm cloak.”

Bellamy looks sick to his stomach. “Here,” he hands her one of the books. He brings her one from the bookshop where he works every week, and they come to this clearing to read together in the afternoon sometimes.

Clarke takes the book from him. “Thank you,” she says. She looks down at the cover. _Little Red Riding Hood._ She’s read this one before. “See?” she shows him an illustration towards the back of the book, of a hunter killing the big bad wolf. “The wolf is the bad guy.”

 

-

 

Even though Clarke has been training her whole life to hunt werewolves, she’s never actually _seen_ one in real life. She’s seen plenty of pictures in the books her parents own. Up to three times as big as a normal wolf. Eyes of blood red or amber. Teeth that can pierce through bone in a single bite.

On the night before the full moon, Clarke readies herself to go out into the woods to go hunting. They used to believe werewolves only shifted on the full moon, but now they know they can appear anytime within a week either side of the full moon.

She’s going alone. Her mom hasn’t been the same since Jake died a year ago, and where his death had made Clarke more determined to kill werewolves, it had done the opposite for Abby.

“Be safe, Clarke,” Abby says, watching as Clarke puts her cloak on over her hunting dress. She’s already tried to convince her daughter not to go, to no avail. Clarke had turned eighteen a week ago – the agreed upon age for when she was allowed to start hunting. Clarke isn’t about to let her mother go back on that promise. Her father’s death changes nothing in that respect.

“I will be,” Clarke says. She picks up her bow and quiver of arrows from where she’d rested them on the floor, and then leaves the manor without so much as a second glance.

She doesn’t take a lantern with her. Over centuries of hunting wolves in the dark, the Griffins have developed extremely superior night vision. Not as good as a wolf, or an owl probably. But much better than the average human. Plus, the moon is so bright, and the sky so cloudless, it’s almost looks like daylight, even under the cover of the trees.

Clarke strays from the path as soon as she enters the woods. Her footsteps are silent as she avoids stepping on leaves and twigs as best she can. The truth is, she doesn’t hold out much hope for finding a werewolf tonight. There haven’t been many sightings since her father was killed. But she wants to try.

She’s been walking through the woods for an hour when she decides to turn around and go home. She’ll try again tomorrow. As soon as she turns around, she spots it. A huge brown wolf, only a few long paces from her. Twice the size of a normal wolf, maybe more. She freezes. She’s not sure if she’s imagining it, but the wolf seems surprised too. It looks around, uncertain, almost as if it’s wondering whether it should stay or run.

“Have you been _following_ me?” Clarke asks it. Then feels foolish for trying to speak to it. As far as Clarke has been taught, werewolves retain nothing of their human minds when they transform.

Clarke reaches for an arrow, sliding it into place and aiming it right between the wolf’s eyes. Brown, she realises. Not glowing red or amber like her father always said. The wolf blinks, but it doesn’t move. Doesn’t run, doesn’t try to attack. Clarke swallows, hesitating. Is she crazy to believe this wolf doesn’t mean her any harm?

Slowly she lowers her weapon. The wolf takes a step towards her. When Clarke doesn’t raise her weapon again, it pads over to her, and sits at her feet. It’s so big it’s almost eye level with her. She finds herself wondering if werewolves have some kind of hypnosis power, because she doesn’t feel scared at all. Or angry. She can’t take her eyes off it, mesmerised by its beautiful deep brown eyes, and its silky dark fur. She can’t help herself. She reaches out, running her fingers through the soft fur around the wolf’s neck.

The wolf closes its eyes, clearly enjoying Clarke’s touch. Clarke moves her hand, scratching behind the wolf’s enormous ear. The wolf whines a little.

“Who’s a good boy?” Clarke coos. She feels something bump against her leg, and when she looks down, she realises the wolf is _really_ enjoying this. Her eyes widen in surprise. The wolf’s hard cock juts out from between its legs. It’s fucking _enormous_. “Oh!” Clarke says, staring at the monster of a thing. It’s got to be as long as her forearm, and at least as thick.

The wolf backs off, almost as if it’s _embarrassed_.

“No, it’s okay,” Clarke assures it. Her heart is pounding. She can’t stop staring at its cock. She kind of wants to touch it. She’s never touched a cock before, human or animal. And this one has her mesmerised.

She steps towards the wolf. “Can I—?” she asks, reaching out. No one has to know about this. It’s just her and the wolf out here. And the wolf won’t remember any of it once it transforms back into a human. That means she can look and touch all she wants, ready herself for when she eventually has to marry and let some rich but ugly old fat man fuck her on their wedding night. She’d like to know a little of what she’s in for.

The wolf nods its head. Clarke drops to her knees and wraps her hand around his cock. She can’t fit her whole hand around him. She swallows. She has this pounding between her legs that she doesn’t quite understand. Her stomach is in knots. There’s drops of liquid at the tip of his cock, and before Clarke can even think about what she’s doing, she’s leaning her head forward and licking him clean. The taste is salty but not unpleasant. She licks him again.

There’s a low growl in the wolf’s chest, and Clarke looks up, meeting his eyes. It suddenly hits her what she’s doing.

“Oh my god,” she says, falling back letting him go. Is she really _licking a wolf’s cock_? Her face burns in humiliation. This is an _animal_. The same kind that killed her father. And she’s on her knees in front of him, touching his filthy wolf penis, even though he could rip her to shreds at any moment.

She gets up off the ground, grabbing her bow in one hand and the hem of her skirts in the other, and runs back towards her home, not stopping to look back at the wolf.

 

-

 

Clarke has a dream about the wolf. More specifically, its cock. She dreams she’s on all fours underneath him, her skirts around her waist, and the wolf puts that gigantic thing inside her. When she wakes, her nightgown and thighs are soaked with her own juices. She’s breathing heavy, and her pussy lips and clit are all swollen.

She burns with embarrassment. She tells herself she can’t possibly _want_ to be fucked by a wolf. It’s humiliating, degrading, disgusting. But she closes her eyes, conjures up the dream she’s just woken from and slides her hand between her legs. She can’t help it. She fingers herself roughly, thinking about the wolf filling her with its cock, with its semen. She comes way too easily, feeling ashamed of herself.

She avoids her mother that morning, not coming down for breakfast until she’s sure Abby is done. She knows Abby can’t read her mind, but she’s worried it will be evident in her face somehow. That she wants to fuck a werewolf. Oh god. She wants it desperately.

Instead of doing her chores after breakfast, Clarke hurries into town, heading straight for the bookshop. Bellamy seems surprised to see her.

“Clarke, what are you doing here?” he asks, his face turning the colour of a tomato. He can’t seem to look her in the eye.

“I, um—do you have any books on werewolves?”

He finally looks at her. “I thought you knew everything about werewolves.”

“I know everything about how to kill them.”

Bellamy leans on the counter in front of her. “And you want to know what?”

Clarke opens her mouth and quickly shuts it again. She can feel her face turning red. What does she want to know, exactly? If a human woman can be fucked by a werewolf without being damaged? If wanting one to fuck her makes her sick and depraved?

“Never mind,” she says quickly. She turns on her heel and hurries out of the shop before Bellamy can say another word.

 

-

 

It’s the full moon tonight. Clarke half wonders if she should change her plans, stay home instead of going hunting. But she’s determined that she has to kill the wolf this time. That will rid her of her wicked thoughts about having werewolf cock inside her.

She constantly checks behind her as she walks this time, in case the wolf is following her again. It’s nowhere to be seen. She hears a howl somewhere nearby, sending chills up her spine. A moment later, another howl, closer this time. Clarke readies her arrow, squinting between the trees, her heart racing, awaiting the appearance of the wolf.

It comes from behind her, pouncing on her, slamming her to the ground, the wind knocked out of her. She doesn’t even have a chance to scream. She manages to flip herself onto her back as the wolf backs off and circles her, growling. Not the same wolf as yesterday. This one is jet black, and its eyes really are glowing red. Clarke fumbles for her bow, though she knows the wolf won’t give her a chance to use it. It lunges for her, and Clarke squeals, sure this is how she dies. But it’s teeth only grip her dress, pulling it, ripping it off her, so she’s left in only her petticoat and corset.

In her terror, Clarke spies its cock, long and hard, and she realises it means to fuck her. The thought only terrifies her further. She doesn’t want this aggressive beast inside her. She wants the other one. The shy one who followed her, made her rethink her views on werewolves for a moment.

“Help!” she screams, scrambling onto her hands and knees, trying to crawl away. The werewolf tears at her petticoat, ripping it up to her corset, along with the shift underneath. She can feel the cool night air on her ass and pussy, and she knows she’s exposed. Tears run down her cheeks.

She looks behind her, sees the werewolf gearing up, ready to rape her. Then, out of nowhere, another wolf comes flying from behind a tree. It lands on top of her attacker, snarling, teeth bared. Her attacker whimpers and tries to fight back, but her rescuer, the wolf from last night, is stronger. The wolf who attacked her backs off, then disappears into the night.

Clarke gets to her feet. “Thank you,” she says. The wolf cocks his head. He starts walking in the opposite direction to the other wolf, then stops, turns around, waiting for Clarke to follow. She does.

The wolf leads her to a cave she’s never seen before. There’s a lantern burning inside. She supposes he must have lit in when he was in human form.

He noses her towards the lantern, and waits for her to sit down. Then he sits himself at the entrance of the cave, as if he’s keeping guard over her.

She watches him. His cock is hard, jutting out obscenely from between his hind legs. Clarke wonders if watching that other werewolf try to fuck her turned him on. She looks down at her torn undergarments. Her corset is digging into her ribs, making it hard to breathe. There’s already a tear in the bottom of it, so she makes use of it, tearing it the rest of the way, with some difficulty. She looks up as she tosses it away, meeting the wolf’s eyes. Her eyes drop to his engorged cock and her stomach lurches. She can feel herself getting wet just looking at it. She wonders if she’s imagining that the wolf is staring at her ample cleavage.

She gets up and walks over to him, sitting beside him. She strokes his fur gently, and he pants in appreciation.

“I don’t know if you understand me or not,” Clarke says. “I’m beginning to think maybe you do. But I want to thank you for saving my life. I thought all werewolves were evil, but I guess I was wrong.” She bites her lip, glances down at his throbbing, veiny cock. She blushes. There’s a need inside her that she can’t explain, that she’s never felt before.

Sometimes she thinks about what it would be like to kiss Bellamy. To have him make love to her. If she was allowed to have her choice of husband, she would choose him. If he’d have her. But she’s never felt so completely overwhelmed with lust and desire as she is now.

The wolf nudges her face with his snout and she groans. “I know it’s wrong,” she murmurs. “But I can’t stop thinking about your cock. About what it would be like to have you fuck me. Take my virginity.”

The wolf whines.

“Please,” Clarke says. “I need it. I don’t think I’ve ever wanted something so much. No one has to find out. God, if they did—” she swallows. “But they won’t.”

The wolf seems hesitant somehow, and that only makes her want him more. She tugs on her shift, pulling it down to reveal her tits to him. He stares at them. He wants her, she knows it.

“Fuck me,” she whispers, carding her fingers through his fur. She pulls her ripped undergarments off the rest of the way. She’s naked now, except for her boots and woollen stockings, which she peels off, pretending not to notice him watching her.

“How do you want me? On my hands and knees?” That’s how she wants it. Wants to fill him above her as he fucks her. But the wolf shakes his head. Clarke pouts. Is he really not going to give her what she wants? When she’s made it clear that this is _all_ she wants?

He pushes his head against her chest, forcing her to lie on her back. The ground is hard and rough beneath her. She soon forgets that, as the wolf nudges her legs apart, his nose pressing against her mound. His tongue licks into her, and she gasps. This is the first time she’s ever been touched there, by someone other than herself.

She was already wet before, but as the wolf licks at her cunt, she feels a new surge of wetness to match her growing need. It feels good, so good. But what she really wants is his cock.

“Fuck me, please,” she moans. The wolf pulls his head away, tilts it at her, almost like he’s mocking her. Is this wolf fucking _teasing_ her? He puts his head down again, nudging the outside of her thigh until she rolls over and gets on her hands and knees. She looks behind her. He fucking towers over her like this.

She shivers. “Oh my god,” she whimpers to herself. This is it. It’s really happening. He’s on top of her, his soft fur tickling her back. She can feel his enormous cock bump against her ass, then slide under her, so it’s pressed against her stomach. Her cunt is throbbing, desperate to be filled. He pulls back, presses the fat tip of his cock against her entrance. She feels like she’s going to die from anticipation.

“Please,” she whimpers. “Please.”

He presses into her, and she opens her mouth in a silent scream. He’s so fucking big, and she’s so tiny. Part of her is sure there is no way he’s going to fit inside her. But he doesn’t stop, and she doesn’t ask him to. Tears stream down her face as she takes his cock. He spreads her virgin pussy so wide she thinks she might break.

She can feel him inside her, pushing deeper and deeper. She’s whimpering and panting, aching from being filled so deeply. She feels his hairy pelvis against her ass, and she knows he’s all the way inside her, taking her innocence with him. But perhaps that had already been lost the first moment she fantasised about having a werewolf cock inside her.  

“Oh god,” she moans. “It feels so good. Fuck me, fuck me. Fuck me with your big wolf cock.”

He drags his cock out of her, only about halfway, pulling on every nerve ending she has. Then he shoves his cock into her, hard. She cries out – both in pleasure and pain. He fucks her without restraint, the way an animal would fuck another animal. She loves it. Loves feeling that huge cock inside her, thrusting into her like she’s a body to be used and nothing else.

The tension inside her builds. Her thighs tremble, and her tits jiggle beneath her. He pounds into her pussy, showing no signs of slowing down. Clarke can feel her orgasm approaching.

“Fuck!” she cries. Fuck, she’s going to come. She’s going to come all over his big wolf cock and she knows he’ll keep fucking her until he’s done. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” she moans. It hits her hard, and she screams, the sound echoing through the cave. Her already tight walls squeeze around his cock. He gives a low growl and the sound makes Clarke’s stomach flip over.

He doesn’t stop fucking her. She comes again, her eyes rolling back into her head.

“Come in me,” Clarke moans. “I need your come inside me,” she begs. She’s pretty sure human women can’t get pregnant by a werewolf. In any case, that’s the last thing on her mind at this particular moment. All she knows is that she needs to be filled with wolf semen, and now.

The wolf growls again, and then he jolts to a stop all of a sudden, and shoves his pelvis against her ass, his cock as deep inside her as it will go. He snarls as he comes, and Clarke can feel it inside her, feel his cock pumping hot sticky liquid into her cunt. She feels it leak out of her pussy around his cock, even as he’s still coming, still filling her with it.

“Oh my god, there’s so much of it,” Clarke whines. It drips down her thighs and onto the ground. Finally, _finally_ he’s done, and he pulls his cock out of her, a decent amount of come going with it. He gets off her, and Clarke immediately misses the heat of his body, the soft touch of his fur. She can feel his nose at her cunt, his tongue poking out to clean her up.

“No!” Clarke says quickly. “I—” she swallows. “I like it. I want to feel it coming out of me.”

Her thighs and pussy are already covered in come. It feels dirty, wrong, just like the whole encounter has been. She doesn’t even care anymore. She’s never felt so satisfied. She collapses to the ground, exhausted.

“I’m just going to…” she yawns, “…sleep. Just for a minute.”

Her eyes fall closed, and as she’s drifting off to sleep, she feels him curl up beside her, his deep fur keeping her naked, come covered body warm and protected.

 

-

 

She wakes with a start in the early hours of the morning, completely disorientated. She’s naked and her pussy aches. Her face floods with colour as she remembers the events of the nights before. Not a dream then. She’d really begged a werewolf to fuck her. And he had. And he’d made her come. Twice. And then he’d filled her with his own come. Come that is now dried on her skin between her legs. Her cunt throbs.

She realises the fur that had enveloped her last night before she fell asleep is gone. Instead, warm skin is pressed against her back. Her heart races. He must have transformed back into a human sometime during the night.

Some part of her doesn’t want to look. But she knows she needs to get out of there before this human man wakes up and wonders who the fuck she is and what the fuck happened last night. She slowly shifts, turning and sitting up at the same time. Her eyes fall on the man beside her, and her heart stops. Bellamy.

Two thoughts enter her mind at once. One: Bellamy is a fucking _werewolf_? Two: _Oh god this is even worse than she thought._

If Bellamy wakes up and sees her now, he’ll know what happened. He’ll know he fucked her while he was in wolf form. Probably that she wanted it, begged for it. The thought fills her with shame. She knows he can’t really tell anyone, not without betraying his own secret. But even him knowing, her best friend, a man she respects, and maybe even loves, knowing what she did… it’s almost too humiliating to bear.

Clarke moves as quietly as she can, reaching for what’s left of her shredded undergarments.

“Clarke?” Bellamy murmurs. Clarke freezes. Too late. He’s awake.

“Bellamy,” she says, turning to him. “I can explain, I—”

“ _You_ can explain?” he says, sitting up. “I really thought I was the one who would need to do the explaining. Unless… you knew it was me all along?”

Clarke shakes her head, turning red. “You remember what happened last night?”

“Yes, of course,” Bellamy says. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Clarke swallows. “I thought—I thought werewolves lost their human minds when they transformed.”

Bellamy shakes his head. “Not at all.”

“But you fucked me anyway.”

Bellamy smirks. “You wanted it so bad.”

Clarke flushes red from head to toe. “Why didn’t you tell me you were a werewolf?”

“You’re a werewolf hunter, Clarke,” he reminds her. “But I’m hoping I may have changed your mind on werewolves a little?”

Clarke nods. “Who was that other wolf? The one who attacked me?”

“Marcus Kane.”

“ _Kane_? The mayor?”

“The very same. He’s—uh—the one who killed your dad.”

“Oh. I still kind of want to kill him.”

“I understand. You want me to clear any other werewolf facts up for you?”

Clarke considers. “When I came in looking for werewolf books… did you know what I wanted?”

Bellamy chuckles. “I had an inkling.”

Clarke groans. “This is so embarrassing.”

“What? That you liked being fucked by a werewolf? Sweetheart, I am the werewolf. I wanted to fuck you while I was in wolf form. I never got to do that before. Fuck a human woman while I was transformed.”

Clarke looks down at the dried come between her legs. “One more question. Is it true that I can’t get pregnant by a werewolf?”

Bellamy looks a little guilty at that. “No. You can very much get pregnant. In fact, you probably are pregnant. And the baby will probably be a werewolf.”

Clarke whimpers, feeling so overwhelmed she might cry.

“Hey, it’s alright,” Bellamy whispers, taking her hand. “We’ll just have to get married.”

“You want to marry me?”

“Of course I do. And I think your mother might even allow it, if you don’t tell her I’m a werewolf. And that you’re having my werewolf baby.”

“Okay,” Clarke says. “And—will you fuck me like that again. While you’re a wolf?”

“Whenever I can. Although I think you’re really going to like human sex as well,” he laughs.


End file.
